Family Secrets
by ak-stinger
Summary: Family secrets come to light when Paris is apparently abducted by Achilles. Contains AchillesParis slash, although the main character is Hector. If you don't like slash, don't read this.
1. Living life with a lie

_Title_: Family Secrets  
  
_Author_: akstinger  
  
_Warnings/Author's notes_: This story contains Achilles/Paris slash, although that won't be the main focus of the plot. This story is also AU, especially the character of Priam. The "R" rating is really only for one chapter; without it, that chapter, the story is easily a "PG-13" or even "PG". This is my first long story, and my first Troy story, so I'm playing it safe with the rating thing. Reviews are appreciated and constructive criticism welcomed. However, flames will be publicly ridiculed. My opinion is that if don't like or are offended by slash, or don't like AU's, then heed the warnings and don't read it. If you read something you know you won't like, you have way too much time on your hands. If you bother to flame the author, then you're a jerk and public ridicule may be the only way to get through to you.  
  
_Disclaimer_: I own nothing. Literally. I'm a starving grad student, so you won't get much if you sue.

The person in front of Prince Hector of Troy reminded him of his infant son, Astyanax. When the boy was in the middle of a major temper tantrum, that is. And, of course, if Astyanax was an ugly, hairy, older man with an odd sense of entitlement. Hector sighed inwardly. This man was supposed to be the new king of all Greek kings? He knew he had to mix bluntness with diplomacy or he'd never get out of there. "King Menelaus," he said, interrupting the man's tirade. "I believe we've been through this before."  
  
Menelaus was sputtering mad. "How can you expect me to agree to this?" he raged. "Why should I submit to this allegiance with Troy? I am King Priam's rival in power in the Aegean -"  
  
"Your brother, Agamemnon, was my father's rival in power," interjected Hector. "However, he is dead. His son is too young to rule effectively, so unless you want your sister-in-law - who, I've been told, has no problem swinging a blade - to be the force behind the throne, I suggest that you agree to the terms of this alliance. Submit to Troy and in return we will support your claim to the kingship."  
  
Menelaus shook his head. "I have Achilles," he declared stubbornly. "The greatest warrior in the world fights for me."  
  
Hector barely managed to contain his snort. "Achilles fights for Achilles," he scoffed. "He will not fight for a king who is under major threat from a woman, especially from a woman who murdered the brother of the aforementioned king. You don't even know where he is now, do you?"  
  
"He is at home, in -"  
  
"He is in Troy," Hector informed Menelaus. "My father is hosting him and his men right now."  
  
"I will send Odysseus to him," said Menelaus desperately. "He will listen to him."  
  
"I'm sure he will," replied Hector. "Especially since the King of Ithaca is also my father's guest at this time."  
  
Menelaus fell silent. Hector went in for the kill. "Everyone knows that Troy is now the unrivaled power in the Aegean. All will want to seek allegiance with us. We want you to remain on your brother's throne; all we ask in return is loyalty. Agree and you can get back to your lovely" _and_ _vapid_ "wife's bed."  
  
Menelaus looked Hector in the eyes. "Agreed."  
  
_#################  
_  
Hector breathed a sigh of contentment as he rode closer to the gates of Troy. Once he gave his father the good news about the alliance with Menelaus and mingled sufficiently with the foreign guests, he would be free to visit his family. He smiled. Yes, he would see his beloved wife Andromache and Astyanax. If his father was distracted enough with the visiting Greeks, he might even be able to sneak a visit with Paris.  
  
His smile turned wistful as he thought about sixteen year old Paris. Priam kept the boy sheltered from the outside world in general and from Hector in particular._ 'I have no one to blame but myself,'_ he silently berated himself. _'Father needs to protect Paris from me. My sin would taint him.'_ As Paris got older, Priam insisted on keeping them more and more separated, even to the point of refusing to allow the boy to be trained as a warrior and sending Hector abroad more frequently. The secret visits were harder than ever to manage.  
  
Hector entered the gates of the city. To his surprise, he and his men were greeted with silent streets rather than the normal cheering crowds. He could feel the underlying tension in the air. Something terrible had happened. He knew it; while he was away, something horrible took place.  
  
Hector raced as fast has his horse could carry him to the palace. As he dismounted, a guard came rushing to him. "Prince Hector!" the man cried. "Thank Apollo!"  
  
"What has happened?" demanded Hector, silently praying that whatever catastrophe that had taken place was not irreversible. "Have negotiations with the visiting Greeks fallen apart?"  
  
"Odysseus and his men are still here," the guard informed him. A sneer came upon the man's face. "Achilles" - he spat after he spoke the name - "and his men left two days ago."  
  
"What has happened?" repeated Hector, a sense of dread growing in him.  
  
"Prince Paris -"  
  
"Paris?" whispered Hector. "What does Paris have to do with all this?"  
  
"He carried him off, sire," cried the guard. "Prince Paris is gone. Achilles kidnapped him two nights ago. We are sure that he is on the Myrmidon ship that's going back to Greece."

To be continued...

_A/N_: For those of you who don't know, Agamemnon was murdered by his wife, Clytemnestra in Greek play _Agamemnon_, by Aeschylus. Their son's name is Orestes 


	2. Our secrets will bury us if we let them

Hector couldn't breathe. His mind reeled as he forced himself to digest what the guard had told him. Paris - sweet, young, beautiful, untrained Paris - was at the mercy of a brute whose mood swings and violent outbursts were as legendary as his prowess. Black dots were starting to appear before his eyes...  
  
"Prince Hector!" The startled guard grabbed him as his knees buckled. Hector shook his head and sucked in some air, trying to clear his head and breathe properly. Swooning in the streets wouldn't help Paris! Information, he needed information and more than this guard could give him.  
  
He straightened his shoulders. "Where is my father?" he demanded.  
  
"He is at his private altar," the guard informed him. "The king has been praying to Apollo since receiving word of the abduction."  
  
Hector took off at a run, racing through the halls of the palace. Occasionally, a person he passed tried to get his attention, but he was oblivious to everything but getting to his father. Ignoring the cries of protest from the guards outside Priam's private alter, he threw the doors open.  
  
King Priam looked startled. "Hector!" he exclaimed.  
  
"I heard about Paris," Hector said hurriedly. "How did this happen? What's being done to get him back?"  
  
"Silence!" Priam snapped. He looked from his son to the guards in the doorway. "Leave us." After the doors slammed shut, Priam turned back to his son. "Hector," he lectured, "you are thirty years old, not a child. I expect you to behave with a little more decorum and dignity."  
  
Hector took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "I am sorry, Father," he apologized. "It's just that I was so surprised by the news of what happened to Paris. Is there any more information? Do you know for sure that he is with Achilles?"  
  
"Your brother," said Priam grimly, "was taken two nights ago by Achilles, of that we are certain. I don't know what condition he's in, but that brute slaughtered two of Paris' guards in order to escape. We wouldn't even know for sure the identity of his abductor if it weren't for that urchin servant."  
  
"Julian?" interrupted Hector, naming the servant boy who waited on Paris.  
  
Priam glared at him. "Don't interrupt," he scolded. "Yes, I believe that's the worthless boy's name. He was found cowering behind the dressing curtain in your brother's room. All he's said so far has been, 'Lord Achilles took the prince.' No bribe or threat has been able to make him say anything else."  
  
"Where is Julian now?"  
  
"That's none of your concern."  
  
"None of my concern?!" blurted out Hector.  
  
"I will take care of this," proclaimed Priam. "Paris is mine to protect."  
  
"Well, you haven't been doing a very good job of it lately, now have you?" shrieked Hector, who was becoming hysterical. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he'd regret this, but he couldn't stop the words from flying out of his mouth. "You invited Achilles here! Did you not see his attentions towards Paris? Did you even bother to watch him at all? How could you let that Grecian monster waltz out of the palace, through the city gates, down to the beach, and on to a boat with Paris in tow?!"  
  
Priam backhanded his son. Hector tasted blood in his mouth. "How dare you?" Priam hissed. "I've protected Paris all of his life. I protected him from your sin, did I not?"  
  
Hector bowed his head in shame as he remembered his past selfish intentions toward the boy.  
  
"Andromache is in the garden with Astyanax," Priam continued coldly. "Go there. Attend to Astyanax, YOUR son, and I will attend to Paris, MY son. Get out of my sight."  
  
Hector turned without a word and left the room.  
  
_##########################_  
  
Andromache rushed to embrace Hector when he came to the gardens. "My dear husband," she sighed.  
  
He embraced her and kissed the baby in her arms on the forehead. "How do you two fare?" he asked.  
  
"Astyanax and I are fine," she assured him. "Paris is the one we should be worrying about. Have you spoken with your father?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And?"  
  
Hector sighed. "I am to stay out of it."  
  
Andromache shot him an exasperated frown. "I don't pretend to understand why your father wants to keep you to separated," she declared, " but Paris adores you. And I know you love him. He needs you now; do you really think it's going to be your father who rescues him?"  
  
Hector acknowledged the truth of her words and used them to steel his resolve to disobey the king. "How can I help him without Father knowing?" he asked.  
  
"Many of the guards and soldiers are more loyal to you than they are to the king. Including," she added slyly, "those guards who are currently posted outside of Julian's quarters."  
  
Hector smiled at her. "Thank you," he said.  
  
The smile she returned was grim. "Hurry."  
  
_#######################  
_  
Odysseus was waiting just outside the doors that led to the servants' quarters. Hector scowled at him, wondering why he and his men weren't imprisoned. Surely he had some knowledge about Achilles plans! "What do you want, Greek?" hissed Hector.  
  
"You are Prince Hector, are you not?" inquired Odysseus.  
  
"I am," he replied shortly. "What do you want?"  
  
Odysseus sighed inwardly. He knew this wouldn't be easy. "I'm sorry for what happened with your brother," he said diplomatically.  
  
"Are you now?" sniped Hector sarcastically. He was in no mood to play political games! "Well, your apologies aren't doing much to save Paris, are they?"  
  
The king of Ithaca was insistent. "I need to talk to he," he stated. "It concerns the well being of Prince Paris."  
  
Hector bristled, but couldn't turn down any source of information, even if it was from a potential conspirator. "Very well," he conceded. "I'll meet you in the gardens. My wife and son are there now. Can I trust you not to carry them off while I question a servant?"  
  
Odysseus wisely chose not to respond to the barely veiled accusation. "I will be there," he promised, and left.  
  
Hector entered the hallway where all of the palace's servants lived and entered Julian's quarters without having to utter a word to the guards posted there. "Don't open this door to anyone," he instructed them as he closed the door behind him.  
  
The ten-year-old servant boy cowered in a corner, petrified. "Please don't hurt me," he begged.  
  
Hector sat on the floor, mindful to keep enough distance between himself and Julian. He needed the boy to speak freely, not be terrified that he'd be beaten for saying the wrong thing. "I won't hurt you," he promised. "I just need you to tell me everything that you saw the night Achilles kidnapped Paris. Please be honest; you will not be punished for it."  
  
Julian lifted his face to look at the prince. Hector could see the tear stains on his cheeks. "I am sorry," he whimpered. "I didn't mean to see. I shouldn't have spied!"  
  
Hector was bewildered. He assumed that Julian's silence had been due to fear of seeing such violence and not being able to help, not guilt over what he saw happen. "You didn't mean to see what?" he asked. "What shouldn't you have seen?"  
  
To be continued... 


	3. Some answers only leave us with more que...

_WARNING: This chapter contains slashy sex and accidental underaged voyeurism_.

I've been reviewed! Thanks to everyone who sent me those nice reviews for chapters one and two.  
  
_A/N: The first part of this chapter is Julian's first person p.o.v . recollection to Hector_  
  
"I assisted Prince Paris as he changed into his night robe. He thanked me and wished me a good night. I was about to leave out of the servant's door, as usual, when I realized I'd dropped the toy goat my father carved for me. I shut the door and ran back to find it, trying to be silent so I wouldn't disturb the prince's sleep.  
  
He wasn't asleep when I re-entered his bedchambers. He didn't see me come back in; the dressing curtain hid me from view and he was staring out the window anyway. I was concerned for him - I'd never seen him look so confused and troubled.  
  
Suddenly, the main door opened. I don't know who I was thought it would be at that time of night, but I certainly wasn't expecting Lord Achilles to be paying him a visit. Prince Paris didn't turn around, not even when Lord Achilles came right up behind him, pressing his body against him and wrapping him arms around his waist.  
  
'I missed you," Lord Achilles murmured. He lifted the prince's sleeping robe to his mid-thigh and slipped his hands underneath. Prince Paris gasped, but didn't say anything. I could see the hands moving under the garments and the prince started moaning.  
  
'Do you like this?' asked Lord Achilles; it sounded like he was purring! He put his mouth on the side of the prince's neck.  
  
'Yes,' breathed Prince Paris, and then he cried out: 'Oh, Apollo! Yes, there! Please!'  
  
Lord Achilles smiled and I could see his hands moving faster underneath the robe. He kept kissing and licking the prince's neck. Prince Paris was moaning and his breathing grew frantic. I'd never seen anyone in such a fit - I feared he would faint!  
  
'You're close," said Lord Achilles. 'Let me hear your release.' With those words, Prince Paris cried out loudly and went limp against him. He appeared to be panting.  
  
Lord Achilles started to mess with the clasps on the sleeping robe. 'Your garments are dirty,' he proclaimed. I was indignant - I would never give the prince a soiled robe to sleep in! 'You shouldn't wear such a sticky robe to bed,' he continued.  
  
The robe suddenly slipped off his body and fell to the floor around his feet. I am sorry - I didn't mean to see the prince naked! Prince Paris turned around and he and Lord Achilles kissed each other on the mouth for a long time.  
  
'Do you remember what I taught you?' asked the lord when their mouths parted.  
  
'Yes,' said the prince, nodding.  
  
'Show me.' Lord Achilles led Prince Paris to the bed. He sat down on the edge, adjusting his skirt in a funny way and spreading his legs. He handed Prince Paris a pillow and pulled him closer. Prince Paris put the pillow down on the floor and sat down on his knees between Lord Achilles' legs. I was stunned to see a Trojan prince kneel before anyone, especially a Greek!  
  
Lord Achilles cupped the prince's face with one hand and stroked his hair with the other. 'Just like I taught you,' he whispered softly. 'And remember that I love you no matter what.'  
  
Prince Paris nodded as the lord removed his hands. He licked his lips and stuck his head under the skirt. I could see his head moving and his hands going under there too. He was making strange noises. Lord Achilles was moaning and babbling. 'Oh, yes Paris,' he would cry out. 'There. Use your tongue - yes, like that! By the gods, you are a good pupil.'  
  
He suddenly grabbed the prince's shoulders. Prince Paris moved his head so that he could look up at him. 'Do you have the oil I gave you?' Lord Achilles questioned.  
  
'It is right in here,' replied Prince Paris, getting up and walking to a chest of drawers beside his bed. He was, well he was, hard, if you know what I mean. I'm sorry! I shouldn't have seen him in such a state! He opened the drawer and pulled out a vial.   
  
Lord Achilles looked very pleased. 'Will you join me on the bed?' he suggested more than asked, sounding quite sly. Prince Paris climbed onto the bed. Lord Achilles removed his garments and jumped on there too. I couldn't see them from where I was standing, but I could hear the prince's laughter. He sounded merry.  
  
'You laugh!' exclaimed the lord teasingly. 'You will not do so when you can feel me at the back of your throat.'  
  
Like I said, I couldn't see them, but I could certainly hear them. They were moaning, crying out, and babbling. 'More! Harder! Oh, yes, gods!' the prince would say, and Lord Achilles was muttering stuff like, 'So tight.' Suddenly the prince shouted out, 'Achilles!' and groaned loudly. A second later, the lord cried out Prince Paris' name - not using his proper title, I might add - and grunted. Then all I could hear for a long time was the sound of deep breathing.  
  
Then I heard the covers rustling and Lord Achilles stepped off the bed. He got dressed quickly and turned around. 'Where do you keep your clothing?' he asked.  
  
'In that closet,' replied the prince. Lord Achilles walked over to the closet and pulled out some garments. 'What are you doing?' Prince Paris asked.  
  
'We are leaving Troy tonight,' replied the lord. I was surprised to hear him say that; no one had told me that the prince was going away! 'Get dressed.'  
  
Prince Paris got up and dressed, but he looked doubtful and a little scared. 'I can't leave yet,' he protested. 'I haven't even had a chance to say goodbye to Hector.'  
  
'I can't protect you here much longer,' argued Lord Achilles. 'You will be safe in my homeland. Your brother can even visit, if he behaves himself. But we must leave now.'  
  
The main door suddenly crashed open - Lord Achilles must have forgotten to lock it. 'Prince Paris!' one of the two guard who entered shouted. 'We heard a strange voice...'  
  
They stopped and smelled the air. I realized then that a strange fragrance filled the room. Then they noticed the lord and leered at the two of them. 'Well, my prince,' one of them said, 'are you getting started a couple of years early?'  
  
The look on Lord Achilles face chilled my blood. He struck out at the guard who spoke, stabbing him in the neck with a long knife. The other guard yelled and grabbed his sword. Before he could draw it, however, the lord stabbed him as well.  
  
The prince looked as shocked as I felt. 'Come,' Lord Achilles told him, grabbing his arm. The prince was still staring at the guards' bodies; Lord Achilles pulled him out of the room. I couldn't save the guards; I couldn't stop the lord from taking Prince Paris. I could only sit there. I'm sorry for not telling all of this to someone sooner, but I feared for my safety and, well, I don't think the prince wanted anyone to know about his meeting with Lord Achilles."  
  
_######################## Normal p.o.v._  
  
Hector's mind reeled as he walked to the gardens. From what Julian had told him, he had no choice but to conclude that Paris and Achilles had some kind of ongoing relationship between them. Two nights ago apparently wasn't their first encounter. Did Achilles truly love Paris, as he said, or was he using the boy so he could brag about his conquest of the youngest prince of Troy? Why did the guards behave the way in the way that they did? What did Paris supposedly start early? Why did Achilles say that Paris needed protection, and why did Paris believe him?  
  
Odysseus was sitting with Andromache and Astyanax when he arrived. "Yes, Telemachus was walking more," Odysseus was telling Andromache. "However, my son didn't have a vocabulary near the size of Astyanax's when he was at this age."  
  
Their conversation halted when they noticed Hector standing there. "What did Julian tell you?" she asked.  
  
Hector stared at them dully. "He told me all he could," he reported, shock and confusion in his voice. Andromache and Odysseus looked concerned. "He said - he said Paris and, and Achilles -"  
  
"Were intimate," supplied Odysseus gently. Hector nodded in affirmation.  
  
Andromache looked shocked. "How could that be?" she wondered aloud.  
  
"They were close for most of our visit," Odysseus said, smiling wistfully. "I knew it wasn't a good idea and told Achilles so, but he wouldn't listen. It wasn't a casual fling or a conquest to him. He was quite taken with Prince Paris; in fact, I believe they're in love."  
  
"Julian said that Achilles wanted to protect Paris," Hector told them, desperate for an explanation. "The guards who found them in Paris' quarters were, well, callous. Do either of you know if these guards were threatening Paris?"  
  
Odysseus struggled for the right words. "There seemed -" he stared. "I mean to say, he always sounded - odd - when he spoke about him -"  
  
"Who?" Hector was tense with frustration. "Achilles? A guard? A member of the court?"  
  
Odysseus shook his head. "We didn't know for sure until he spoke to me three nights ago," he continued. "I told Achilles of our conversation. He told me he was going to protect Prince Paris -"  
  
"WHO?" roared Hector. WHO, WHO, WHO?! Who was such a threat to Paris that Achilles felt the need to remove him from Troy so quickly and in such a violent manner?"  
  
Odysseus looked pained. "Your father," he said at last. "Achilles was protecting your brother from King Priam."  
  
To be continued...


	4. Sins of the fathers

Time seemed to stop. Andromache stared from her husband, who was struck dumb with shock, to Odysseus, who stared nervously at the prince. Hector opened his mouth a few times, trying to force word to come out.  
  
"My father?" he finally asked in a quavering voice.  
  
Odysseus nodded. "Achilles never liked him very much, especially after he started, um, seeing your brother," he stated. "I always felt a bit uneasy about the king's relationship with Prince Paris as well."  
  
"Dare I ask," said Hector in an overly civil voice, "what aspect of their relationship did you disapprove of?"  
  
"I am not saying this to be cruel," said Odysseus. "You wanted to know who Achilles thought was threatening the prince's safety. I'm only telling you what happened and what I observed."  
  
"And your observations?"  
  
"King Priam seemed to view the prince more as a possession than as a son," answered Odysseus. "He loved to show him off, kept telling everyone to look at how beautiful the boy was, but he didn't let him mingle with us. He doesn't want there to be any aspect of the prince's life that he can't control."  
  
"He does everything he can to keep Hector and Paris separated," Andromache interjected, almost to herself. Hector remained silent.  
  
"As I said," continued Odysseus, "this was all observation and speculation on my part. I don't know if Prince Paris confided anything to Achilles."  
  
"You said you knew for certain that he was a threat to Paris three nights ago," persisted Hector. "How did you come to this conclusion?"  
  
"Ah, yes," recalled Odysseus grimly. "It was three nights ago, right after the evening banquet..."  
  
_################## Odysseus' first person p.o.v. recollection_  
  
"Everyone was up and mingling except me. I was picking at some fruit and staring at Prince Paris' empty chair. He had excused himself before the last course of the meal, feigning exhaustion. Achilles had slipped off after the meal to see him in his quarters. I was wondering how badly things would go if King Priam found out about their relationship when the king sat down next to me. 'Are you not enjoying yourself?' he asked.  
  
'I was just letting my thoughts get away from me,' I responded.  
  
He followed my gaze. 'Thoughts about my Paris?"  
  
It was no use denying that Prince Paris occupied my mind, but I know to omit the details. 'I was just wondering,' I told him, ' why a boy his age is not training with your army. Is sixteen considered too young by Trojan standards to be a warrior?'  
  
'Paris is not going to be a warrior,' King Priam responded firmly. 'He seems destined for another occupation.'  
  
"Do you want him to be a priest in Apollo's temple?' I asked, trying to think of a suitable occupation other than warrior for a king's son.  
  
King Priam gave a quiet snort. 'No," he said. 'Being a priest requires more purity than Paris has.'  
  
Panic filled my mind. "Oh," I said, trying as hard as I could to be nonchalant. 'I didn't know the prince was involved with anyone.'  
  
'He's not," replied the king. I was going to ask him why then he was questioning Paris' purity when I noticed he was no longer looking at me. I turned to where he was looking, in the direction of the crowd, and saw that a group of young men had joined the party. They were, well, they were the palace prostitutes, sent in to entertain the guests and members of the court. I stared at the king, praying that I was misunderstanding him.  
  
'One cannot fight what they were born to be," he said softly. "Those long legs were clearly meant to be wrapped around someone important. He turned back to me. "Some people were meant to be warriors," he said matter-of-factly. "Some were meant to be priests. Some were meant to be scholars. My beautiful Paris was meant to be a whore. His training in the arts of pleasure starts in two years.'"  
  
_###################### Normal p.o.v._  
  
Andromache clapped her hand over her mouth in shock.  
  
"I was horrified to hear a father say something like that about his son," concluded Odysseus. "When Achilles returned from Prince Paris' quarters that night, I told him everything. I begged him not to do anything rash, but he was so focused on protecting the one that he loved that what I begged and advised was of little consequence to him."  
  
Hector had been silent throughout Odysseus' recollection. Now his entire body shook with rage. Words tumbled out of his mouth in an uncontrolled rant: "I trusted - a whore - was supposed to protect - my shame - Ianthe - Paris - Alexandros - he thinks - tainted with _my_ sin?!"   
  
Hector whipped around and charged out from the gardens. Odysseus and Andromache followed, struggling to keep up. As they progressed down the palace halls, the two realized where Hector was heading.  
  
Andromache gasped. "My husband!"  
  
"Prince Hector!" protested Odysseus at the same time.  
  
Hector paid no heed to either of them. He threw open the doors and stormed into his father's court.  
  
King Priam and Troy's noblemen looked at him as if he'd gone insane. "What is the meaning of this?" Priam demanded.  
  
Hector's face was purple with rage. "I trusted you," he spat out. "You were supposed to protect him."  
  
"We have already discussed Paris' -"  
  
"His training in the arts of pleasure begins in two years, Father?" hissed Hector. Priam fell silent. "Paris will be eighteen by then, the age that royal and court concubines are chosen. Since when has being a prostitute been a proper occupation for a prince?"  
  
Many of the nobles looked shocked at what Hector was saying. Priam was desperate to shut him up. "Hector!"  
  
"You took him from me!" Hector continued to rage. "You've been taking him from me for over sixteen years! Why, Father? Why did you take him when all you wanted for him was to keep the beds of your foreign allies and noblemen warm? Why do you want to make a whore out of my son?"  
  
To be continued... 


	5. And the truth shall set him free

_A/N: _Hector's recollection is in italitics, although it's not set apart from the rest of the text.

Priam's face contorted with fury and panic. "Be quiet Hector!" he ordered sharply.  
  
Hector was in no mood to be quiet. He didn't want to play the part of stoic warrior and obedient son in front of the nobles. Apollo forgive him, he didn't want to soften the blow that this news must have been for his beloved wife. In fact, he could barely even register that there was anyone else in the room except him and his treacherous father. Deep down inside of Hector was that fourteen-year-old boy who's soul protested and heart screamed when Priam robbed him of his son. For over sixteen years, he'd tried to silence that part of him that protested against all reason that he should have raised the boy himself. Now that part of him was vindicated and he refused to hold his tongue.  
  
"I will not be silent," Hector growled. "I was silent when you ordered Ianthe into hiding in order to keep her pregnancy a secret. I was silent when you used her death and my mother's absence to claim my child as your own. For all these years, I was silent while you did everything in your power to keep me from having any kind of bond with Paris. What has my silence done? My son is so frightened of your plans for his future that he fled the only life and home he's ever known!"  
  
"Your brother was -"  
  
_"My son!"_ screamed Hector. Everyone jumped back, amazed and terrified the depth of his rage and despair. Years of agony seemed to be flowing out of him. "My son, my son, my son!" he half-sobbed. "Paris is my son. You can't claim him anymore."  
  
The room filled with silence as the noblemen, Andromache, and Odysseus struggled to come to terms with this news. Finally, an older nobleman built up enough courage and cleared his throat. "Prince, Prince Hector," he stammered. Hector's mind slowly registered that someone was speaking and he looked over. "How can any of this be true?"  
  
Hector closed his eyes, allowing the memory of a long time ago to resurface. "Ianthe," he whispered. Then he raised his voice so that all could hear. "For all of my childhood, I was alone. I rarely got to see anyone my age, except for the servants and most of them wouldn't talk to me for fear of breaching decorum. Ianthe would, though. She was a maid in the palace; pretty but not extraordinarily beautiful, but she was kind. She talked to me like I was a friend, a peer, rather than the almighty Prince of Troy."  
  
His smiled sadly at the memories. "It was puppy love, but for a lonely boy and an independent-minded maid it felt like so much more. We wanted to be grown-up, wanted to leave the city and all the politics. We thought we were grown-up; we let this feeling and curiosity take our relationship -" he ignored his father's snort of disapproval - "to a level neither of us was ready for."  
  
"She became pregnant?" another noble asked.  
  
"Yes," nodded Hector, who avoided looking at Andromache. "I thought we should get married, but Father wouldn't hear of his heir marrying a maid."  
  
"Cease this nonsense!" snapped Lord Isidore, Priam's main advisor. "My stomach will not stand for this innocent version of things. She was a whore, a whore who forgot her place. It was in her blood and one cannot fight what's in one's blood."  
  
Hector glared at him murderously, but it was Odysseus who sneered: "And we don't have to wonder just who was going to train Prince Paris in the arts of pleasure, do we?"  
  
Hector took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Now was not the time for brutal revenge; that would come soon enough. Now the truth had to come out. "She was locked away in one of the palace quarters. Very few knew about her condition and even less knew who the sire was. I loved the baby from the moment she told me about him. We'd decided to name him Alexandros, and I - I dreamed of raising him in the countryside of Mount Ida, away from all of the politics of the court."  
  
"A preposterous wish of a foolish boy," muttered Priam.  
  
"Father, I'm going to tell you something that may sound familiar: be silent!" snapped Hector. "She died in childbirth," he continued. "For a while after, all I did was hold her hand and cry. When I recovered my strength and my wits, I went in search of my son and found him in the arms of my father. _I said to him, 'Father, can I see him?'  
  
He moved the blanket so that I could see the baby's face, but he made no move to give him to me. 'Hector,' he told me, 'you cannot claim him as your own.'  
  
'Why not?' I asked him.  
  
'How will you raise him?' It sounded almost like he was taunting me. 'You are still a child, weak in mind and body. This baby is evidence of that. How can you teach him to be strong when you yourself are not?'  
  
My heart wept. 'What will become of Alexandros, then?' I cried.  
  
'There is no Alexandros," he said sharply. 'That is too low a name for a son of mine.'  
  
I didn't understand what he was saying. 'What?' I asked, perplexed.  
  
'Your mother refuses to return from her visit with her family,' he said. 'We will say that she died, but sent the child that she didn't know she was bearing when she departed on her journey to be with his family.'  
  
I couldn't believe my ears. 'But father!' I protested.  
_  
_'Would you rather, then,' he condescended, 'that he be branded as the bastard child of the prince's fling with a servant? Would you see him tainted with your sin?' His face grew kinder. 'I will protect him from all of that, from you. He will be my son, Prince Paris.'"  
_  
Hector shook himself out of the memory. He looked up and saw that all save Priam, Lord Isidore, and a few of their closest confidantes were staring at him with pity in their eyes. He turned to Andromache, who was clutching Astyanax in her arms. "I'm sorry, dear wife," he choked out. "I should have told you everything at the beginning of our life together."  
  
Andromache touched his face lovingly. "This explains so much," she whispered. "Don't be sorry; I'm not angry. Whatever price your lies call for has been paid many times over."  
  
Hector gave her a small smile. "You understand that I have to go, then?" he said more than asked.  
  
She nodded, but Priam shook his head vehemently. "You are not leaving the city!" he shouted.  
  
Hector turned to face his father. "I'm not asking for your permission to go," he said. "I don't care for your opinion anymore and I'm not taking any more orders from you. As far as I'm concerned, you're finished." He gestured at the noblemen. "As far as I'm concerned, almost any one of these men would be a better king than a man who would steal his own grandson from his son and I will lend my name and men to anyone who wants to oppose you. However, I must first find my son. Odysseus?"  
  
Odysseus stepped forward and stood beside him. "I will go with you," he vowed. "Achilles will listen to me. I'll convince him to let you see Prince Paris." He paused and smiled. "No, not Prince Paris; rather Paris Alexandros."  
  
Hector felt a thrill run through him. It was a similar feeling to what he felt when he was about to drive a chariot for the first time by himself: knowing that it could kill him, but at the same time desiring the joy that would be his if he succeeded. The day he'd imagined for years was almost upon him. He looked at Odysseus, determined. "Take me to my son."  
  
To be continued...


	6. Trying to reclaim what was lost

Achilles may have been bold to the point of reckless, but she wasn't stupid; he knew a force would follow when he spirited away the youngest prince of Troy. He wouldn't leave the beach of his homeland undefended. Both Hector and Odysseus knew this and that's why they weren't surprised to be see a troop of Myrmidons waiting for them before their ship even ran aground. The Trojan warriors who accompanied the two now looked on with unease as Hector and Odysseus went ashore without them and walked directly to the head of the opposing troops.  
  
"Where is Achilles?" Odysseus asked, speaking loud enough so that everyone on the beach could hear him.  
  
Eudores, Achilles second-in-command and head of the beach troops stepped forward. "Achilles is otherwise occupied," he reported in a clipped tone. "He gave me orders to have the men hold the beach against those who-" he sneered at Hector - "trespass."  
  
"I would see Prince Paris," said Hector, forcing his voice to be as calm, steady, and non-threatening as it could be. Ever since he made sure Andromache and Astyanax would be kept safe by men loyal to him in the countryside away from the city, Hector's thoughts and worries had been focused almost solely on his eldest son. If this anticipation and frustration didn't end soon, he was going to claw his own skin off!  
  
"I'm sure you would," Eudores replied sarcastically. "But unless Achilles gave you leave to do so, the only way you're leaving this beach is in the ship that brought you here. No, there's another way: dead, if you try to fight us."  
  
"Let me talk to Achilles," requested Odysseus.  
  
"I will remain on the beach," added Hector, before Eudores could retort. The prince turned around to face his ship. "Soldiers of Troy! No matter what happens, you are not to leave the ship unless the Lord Achilles gives you leave to do so!" He turned back to Eudores. "I don't want a fight here; I just want to see Paris."  
  
Eudores looked doubtful, but a figure not too far behind him spoke up. "I'll take you to see Achilles, King Odysseus." It was the warrior's cousin, Patroclus. The other Myrmidons looked at him reproachfully, but he refused to look uncomfortable. "You may be an old fox," the young man continued, almost smiling as he raised his voice so all could hear him, "but you are also his friend. I'm sure you can entrust Prince Hector to these fine men while you talk to my cousin."  
  
With one last look at the Trojan prince, Odysseus followed Patroclus to yard outside Achilles' home. The young man took a few steps forward, toward the door, but then hesitated and turned around to look the king in the eye. "Why are you traveling with that Trojan," he asked. "Why do you want to risk my cousin's wrath by speaking on his behalf?"  
  
"Partly because Achilles and Paris don't know the whole story," answered Odysseus. "There are things that both of them, especially Paris, need to know. But mostly because I think I'd rather die a thousand deaths on Achilles' sword during his worst moods than go through all that Hector has gone through."  
  
Confused by this declaration and disturbed by the gravity Odysseus gave it, Patroclus rushed inside the house. A moment later, he reemerged with Achilles. With a slight bow, Patroclus ran off in the direction of the beach. Odysseus gave the warrior a slight smile, but Achilles made no move away from the door. "Paris is sleeping," he said curtly. "I won't let anyone disturb him."  
  
Odysseus nodded more to acknowledge the statement than to agree with what was said. "I came to ask you to give Hector of Troy leave to see Paris," he stated.  
  
"No."  
  
Odysseus refused to be deterred. "Why not?"  
  
"Hector would take him back to the city," answered Achilles. "He would deliver him back into the control of their father, to be a prostitute for the nobles and a prize for foreign kings who submit to Troy. He probably knew about Priam's plan for a long time."  
  
"No, he didn't," Odysseus told him with so much force that Achilles looked startled. "If you'd have seen Hector's reaction when I told him what his father said, you would know that's not true."  
  
Achilles shook his head stubbornly. "Maybe he didn't know," he conceded, "but that doesn't change the fact that he wants to take the person I love away from here and back to Troy."  
  
"He wants to see Paris," insisted Odysseus. "He wants to know that he's all right. I don't doubt that he'd like the boy to come with him, but he won't take him by force." He could see Achilles doubt wavering and went in for the kill: "You can stay right outside the door if that would give you peace of mind. Hector won't be able to harm Paris, nor steal him away without your knowing it."  
  
Achilles' face scrunched with frustration as his resolve crumbled. "Very well," he spat out reluctantly. "But I'm not going to move from this spot while he's in there, unless it's to kill him. You may go fetch him."  
  
"Thank you." With those words, Odysseus rushed off.  
  
Achilles sighed and went inside, walking to the bedroom. He already regretted agreeing to this, but the only thing he could do now was wake the boy who was stretched out naked in the bed before him, sleeping contentedly. He knelt down and stroked Paris' cheek. Paris' eyes fluttered opened and looked up. The boy smiled and murmured, "Good morning."  
  
"Good morning, indeed," Achilles smiled back. He leaned forward and kissed Paris lightly on the lips.  
  
Paris frowned. "What's wrong?" he questioned.  
  
"What makes you thing anything is wrong?"  
  
Paris smiled playfully at him. "That's not the good morning kiss I'm used to," he said seductively. "The good morning kisses you usually give generally keep us in bed for another hour or so." His tone changed to one of concern. "Achilles, what's wrong?" he repeated.  
  
"Nothing. Probably," Achilles amended with a sigh. "Your brother arrived this morning. He wants to see you."  
  
Paris' face brightened. "Hector's here?" His smile faltered. "Is he going to take me back to Troy?"  
  
"Not while I still breathe," Achilles promised.  
  
"I would like to see him," Paris declared. He sat up and frowned. " Although I should probably have some clothes on when I do so."  
  
Just as Paris finished getting dressed there was a knock at the door. Achilles looked at his young lover, silently willing him to change his mind. Seeing that it was futile, he opened the door and found Odysseus standing there with Hector at his side. The Trojan prince ignored the warrior entirely, rushing past him and embracing Paris, clutching the boy as if he feared he would disappear if he didn't hold on to him tightly. Odysseus threw Achilles a look that the warrior couldn't read before leading him outside.  
  
Paris returned Hector's hug. "I missed you so much," he said. The older man didn't respond, but Paris could feel tremors running through his body.  
  
Hector broke the hug but didn't move away. Instead, he held Paris' face with both hands. Paris saw that his face was red and his cheeks were wet with tears. He'd never seen Hector cry; before now, he wouldn't have been able to imagine it. His face wore an expression of relief that was almost painful to look at.   
  
Guilt rushed over Paris for causing Hector so much anguish. "I'm sorry," He said. "I didn't mean to put you through this, but I couldn't stay there. Father -"  
  
Hector shut his eyes and kissed Paris' brow. "I know."  
  
Paris moved a few steps back, freeing his face from Hector's hands. "He wants to whore me," he whispered brokenly. "My own father thinks I'm nothing but a whore."  
  
"Paris," said Hector quietly. "I need to tell you something; something that will help you understand this whole situation."  
  
The boy looked up sharply. "Pray tell me," he said sarcastically, "what I'm misinterpreting about this situation."  
  
"Paris-"  
  
"No," he interrupted. "What don't I know that could possibly help me understand all of this?"  
  
"He's not your father, Paris," Hector blurted out. "Priam is not your father. I am."  
  
To be continued... 


	7. The truth can be a bitter pill to swallo...

Hector had dreams about this moment.; he had nightmares about this moment, and now it was finally here. While he'd wondered and worried about what Paris' reaction would be, he thought he was prepared for anything. Now, the look on Paris' face took away this confidence in that. Paris' expression was one of disbelief and, well, annoyance.  
  
"Stop trying to be funny, Hector," he finally said. "I know you're trying to make me feel better, but don't sidestep my question."  
  
He didn't believe him. _'Well, did you really expect him to?'_ Hector scolded himself. Aloud he said, "Paris, I'm not trying to be funny and I'm not trying to sidestep any questions. I'm trying to explain the situation to you, and this is the truth: I truly am your father."  
  
Paris' voice shook a little. "Stop it, Hector," he said warningly.  
  
Hector looked him straight in the eye. "I was fourteen," he stated firmly. "It was over sixteen years ago, but I could still describe to the tiniest detail what your face looked like. You were -" his voice started to waver with emotion - "you were the most incredible thing I'd ever seen."  
  
Paris sucked in a deep breath. And then another, and another. He's starting to hyperventilate, Hector realized. The man lunged forward, grabbing one of Paris' arm and rubbing gentle circles on his back. "Relax," he instructed. "If you don't relax and breathe normally, you'll pass out."  
  
_"Get away from me!"_ Paris screamed, shoving Hector away. He pushed with so much force that Hector went sprawling to the floor and he himself stumbled onto his hands and knees. Hector sat up and saw him on all fours, his body visibly shaking. "You liar!" the boy shouted. His voice broke and the shakes were now accompanied by sobs. "You liar..."  
  
Scuffling could be heard outside and the door burst open. Achilles ran into the room with his sword drawn and Odysseus trying to restrain him. The sword froze in his hands when he took in the scene before him: both Trojans were on the floor, crying.  
  
"I'm sorry," Hector sobbed. Paris stayed frozen in place, refusing to look at his newfound father. "I love you. I love you so much I'm sometimes surprised there's room inside of me for anything besides that. I loved you from the moment I knew you were coming. You were my baby; I wanted everything for you. And I made a horrible mistake trying to do it. He told me that he'd protect you, and I believed him. Oh Apollo, I let him have my Alexandros to turn into his Paris!"  
  
Achilles' mouth fell open in shock as the realized what Hector was talking about.  
  
Slowly, Paris looked over at Hector. "You abandoned me," he choked out. "Not just once, but for all of my life. You, you were so busy with your own life that you only saw me when I happened to pop into your mind."  
  
"No," Hector declared, shaking his head vehemently. "Father never wanted me to see you. He said it wasn't a good for either of us if we got too attached to each other, but I couldn't not see you." Paris remained silent, but didn't look away. "I snuck into your chambers, bribed guards, and did some things I'm not very proud of," Hector continued. "But I'd do it all again in a heartbeat if it were the only way I could see you. I couldn't lose you wholly; I needed to be with you, to hold you, even if it was only as a brother."  
  
Paris inched forward and hesitantly put his hand on Hector's arm. Hector looked down at the hand and then into Paris' eyes. "I didn't do this so that I would be rid of you," he said. "I've felt like I was dying a little every day since the day Father took you from me, but I thought you were better off. I could never abandon you without cutting out my own heart. I love you."  
  
He tentatively moved his hand to Paris' shoulder; Paris remained still. Realizing he wouldn't be recoiled, Hector wrapped his arms around the boy. He felt Paris stiffen, but then relax into the embrace 'He knows I'm his father,' he thought, 'and he's still letting me hold him. He let out the breath he didn't know he was holding and tightened his arms around his son. Odysseus, realizing that the two needed their privacy, managed to lead a stunned and mesmerized Achilles back outside.  
  
Paris looked up at Hector. "I have so many questions," he said.  
  
"I'll answer whatever question you ask me," Hector promised.  
  
"Where is my mother?" Paris asked. "It's obvious that Father - Grandfather - Priam - what do I call him now? Or you?"  
  
"Call us whatever feels right," replied Hector. "I can still be Hector to you if you'd like, and you can still call him 'father', if that's more comfortable for you."  
  
"He was never my father," said Paris darkly. "Not ever. But that's not important right now; what's important is that he didn't think you were capable of raising me, even with the help of a nanny. He obviously doesn't care much about me. So why am I with him and not living in anonymity with my mother. Is she Andromache?"  
  
"No," Hector answered. "I didn't meet Andromache until years after all of this. Your mother was a servant named Ianthe; you're not with her because she's, she died." Hector told him everything he told the nobles the day the truth came out, about his mother, their relationship, her death, and how Priam ended up claiming him.  
  
"Why did he take me?" wondered Paris. "Why not just kill me?  
  
"Because he does love us," said Hector. Paris gave him a hard look and Hector amended his statement. "He loves you in the way that he loves me, and the way he loved my mother: as possessions, firmly under his control. He took you so he could feel like he had control over the situation with Ianthe, so he could control me in the future, and because you're a piece of me and he wanted to control you too. But I'm certain he sees as much of your mother as he does of me when he looks at you. He hated her, called her a..."  
  
"A whore?" Paris supplied. Hector nodded. "And that's why he was just going to stand there and watch when Lord Isidore raped me on my eighteenth birthday?"  
  
"I can only tell you what I believe he was thinking," Hector told him. "I can't tell you why he thought those things."  
  
Paris sat up and looked him straight in the eye. "Did you know what he - they - were planning on doing to me?" he demanded.  
  
"No," declared Hector. "If I'd known, Father would now be a crippled beggar in a foreign land and Lord Isidore would be dead."  
  
Paris believed him; he could tell by the look in his eye. The boy turned and relaxed into his arms again. They were silent for a long time before Paris spoke again. "You are truly my father." There was a little bit of a question in his statement.  
  
"I am," Hector affirmed.  
  
He could hear the smile in Paris' voice when he replied, "I think I'm glad about that."  
  
_#######################  
_  
A surprise greeted Hector and Paris when they came to the beach. Next to the Trojan ship that brought the prince and Odysseus to that land was another ship, this one being readied to sail by Myrmidons. Odysseus and Achilles were standing several feet away from all the activity, waiting for the two to arrive.  
  
"What's going on?" Paris asked Achilles.  
  
Achilles smiled warmly at him. "We saved everyone some time," he reported. Paris raised an eyebrow. "We two were going to have a fight," Odysseus explained, "because you need to go back to Troy, at least for the time being, with your father here and he doesn't want you to leave. You two would have had a huge argument, during which Achilles would've ranted and raved while you tried to be patient at first and then lost your temper. Then you would have yelled at each other until I, the sly fox that I am, broke it up, forced him to listen to reason, and worked out a compromise. Since I went through all that in my head, we can skip the argument and come straight to the compromise: You're going back to Troy like you need to do, and Achilles - and his men - are coming with you."  
  
"What?" Hector asked, bewildered.  
  
Achilles looked him in the eye. "I'm not a raping, pillaging brute, no matter what you've heard," he said. "I did what I did because I couldn't leave someone I'm in love with at the mercy of a father planned on whoring him. I can, however, offer my allegiance to a father who loves him, as long as said father doesn't try to get in the way of our relationship."  
  
Hector smiled, feeling for the first time that he could like the Greek. "No matter what happens," he promised, "you have my blessing to be with my son."  
  
"I don't need it," replied Achilles blithely. "But it's nice to have.  
  
To be continued...

_A/N:_ I just wanted to take this opportunity to thank all my viewers! There are a couple of things that came up in some reviews that I'll address right now.

_bradleigh:_ Thanks for letting me know about the error in the first line of chapter 6. Achilles is most definitely a "he" (even if he did dress up like a girl in "The Iliad") :)

_Artemicion:_ I don't believe I've read anything by Melanie Rawls (although some interesting items came up when I did a search on her). I came up with the name "Ianthe" by looking through an old baby name book for names with Greek origins.


	8. The rabbits get the gun

_The title for this chapter comes from the song "The Rabbit" by Jimmy Wayne, a song my niece loves. I won't type out the entire thing, but here's the chorus:_

_"What goes around comes around_

_There's no doubt_

_We'll have to answer for the things we've done_

_When the tables turn and they will turn_

_Mark my words_

_It ain't gonna be no fun when the rabbit gets the gun."_

_I thought it was appropriate!_

The troops on the Trojan and Myrmidon ships could see an army at the gates of Troy before they even reached the beach. Hector squinted, trying to get a better idea of what was happening. The force outside the city wasn't particularly large, but it could hinder them once they were ready to go to the palace and deal with Priam. He gave the order to ring the signal bell; the toll was answered seconds later. _'Good,'_ thought Hector. _'At least we'll be prepared when we meet them.'  
_  
Paris came running up from below deck at the sound of the bells. He'd been traveling with Hector on the Trojan ship since they left Achilles' homeland, while Achilles and Odysseus traveled with the Myrmidons. Achilles hadn't overly thrilled about this arrangement at first, not wanting to be separated from his young lover, but Odysseus convinced him that it would be better if Paris and Hector could deal with their new relationship without the added complication of his presence. Both Paris and Achilles eagerly awaited their reunion on land, but now it looked like that would be delayed. "What's going on?" Paris demanded.  
  
"It looks like the city's being besieged," answered Hector, pointing.  
  
Paris squinted in the sunlight. "They'll need more men to do that properly," he remarked. His eyes widened. "They're turning around; it looks like they're coming to the beach!"  
  
Hector cursed silently and ordered the bell to be rung again. "Get ready, men!" he shouted. "It looks like we'll have to make a stand very soon after we arrive!"  
  
Paris still watched the situation on land. "The city gates are opening," he observed. "Some sort of force is pursuing them."  
  
The boat ran aground before Hector had a chance to reply or even wonder what was going on. He turned to order his men onto the sand when he saw his son fingering the hilt of a sword strapped to his side. 'Where did he get that,' he wondered, but that was unimportant right now. "Paris, stay here," he said.  
  
"But Hec-Father!" he protested. "I can help."  
  
"No!" Hector's voice was firm but desperate. "You are not properly trained. Please, for my sake if nothing else, stay here and don't argue right now!" Even as he spoke, he silently cursed himself for sounding like Priam; he forced himself to remember he wasn't his father.  
  
Paris looked like he wanted to argue more, but he relented. "All right."  
  
Hector spared him a small smile. "Thank you," he murmured, and then raised his voice: "Men! Foes are coming! Step forward and fight!"  
  
The Trojan force leapt off their ship and ran forward with Hector at its head. They were joined almost immediately by the Myrmidons. Achilles and Odysseus were soon running beside Hector. Despite the danger, Odysseus grinned at him. "Where is your wayward son?" he asked.  
  
"Still on board the ship, of course," answered Hector grimly. "He's not trained to be a warrior."  
  
"He won't be happy about this," Achilles commented. "Never tell him, but I'm glad he's not going to be in this, even though -"  
  
His words were cut off by a surprised cry - the besiegers had come up on them sooner than expected. However, Hector took one look at the troops and knew their arrival wasn't the reason for the surprise. It was because the opposing troop was made up of Trojans. Priam was at their head and Lord Isidore stood a little behind him. Hector's troops hesitated, as did the Myrmidons. None of their men were sure about what to do now.  
  
Hector spoke first. "Father," he called. "Did the people actually rise up against you?"  
  
"They certainly did," hissed Lord Isidore. "Your treasonous words spurred them on, you ungrateful brat."  
  
Hector's eyes never left Priam's face. "Good," he declared. "Whom do I now call my king?"  
  
Priam laughed bitterly. "They rose up in your name," he said. "They call you king, but don't believe it. You're nothing but a weak boy who allowed himself to be seduced by a servant whore and then grew up to be a weak man obsessed with his bastard child. You'll never be much of a king, not without my guidance; and now I'd rather kill you than watch you take the throne."  
  
The scene turned chaotic in an instant. The soldiers who traveled with Hector were his most loyal and they had no problem accepting him as their new king. Trojans fought Trojans in the names of their acknowledged lord, and the Myrmidons fought for Hector at Achilles' command. Achilles himself fought with and killed many opposing warriors, all the while looking for one man: Lord Isidore. Oh, how he despised that man! He'd learned from his frantic questioning of the palace prostitutes the night before he left Troy that the foul lord "trained" the initiates, and the leers he gave Paris told Achilles that he look forward to starting the prince's _training_. Achilles gritted his teeth. Yes, he was going to kill him, but not before he cut his balls off and shoved them down his throat.  
  
But his search proved fruitless. Achilles' blood ran cold at the realization: Lord Isidore wasn't there. Sometime, during the confusion of battle, he had slipped off unnoticed.  
  
_######################_  
  
Paris stood on the beach, too sullen to feel guilty about not entirely complying with Hector's orders. He wanted to know what was going on, and he wouldn't find that out by staying on the ship. His thoughts were so focused on the battle that he didn't hear a man approaching. "Well, well, well," a voice beside him cooed mockingly.  
  
Paris turned slowly to see Lord Isidore standing just a few feet away with an evil smile on his face. "Look who came back," the lord continued. "The king and his men are fighting the traitors and foreigners right now. I dare say we'll be victorious before too long."  
  
The boy refused to dignify that with a response. Lord Isidore's grin turned lecherous. "Don't worry," he purred. "You be a good boy for me right now, on your knees with that pretty mouth open and ready, and I'll make sure you won't be killed. In fact, since you seem to enjoy spreading those legs for common warriors, I'll even let you provide the entertainment for the loyal troops when their celebrating their victory on the bodies of the dead."  
  
This was too much for Paris to bear. He pulled his sword out from his side, his eyes burning with hatred. "Your troops won't win," he growled. "And you won't live to touch me."  
  
Lord Isidore looked amused. "I may be older," he said, drawing his own sword forward, "but I was trained by only the best Trojan warriors. Who taught you to fight?"  
  
Paris smirked. "The greatest warrior in the world."  
  
_#########################_  
  
Never in his life did Hector imagine that he'd be fighting his father in battle, but there they were, clashing blades. "I'll give you this one chance," he shouted. "Order your troops to surrender and you can all leave Trojan land alive."  
  
Priam just snorted. "Always too compassionate, Hector," he sneered. "Always too merciful. That's why I took Paris from you; I didn't want him to grow up to be as weak as you. Of course, that was before I saw there was too much of his mother in him to be anything but a whore."  
  
Hector let out a bellow and the fight continued. Swords sang and blood was spilled, but he got the upper hand fairly easily and soon Priam sprawled on his back on the ground. Hector stood above him, his sword pointed at his chest. "Do it," Priam taunted.  
  
Hector shook his head, but didn't move his sword. "No," he declared. "That's much too easy and quick. You don't get to take the easy way out. For over sixteen years, I was in a prison of your making, never able to be with my son. Now you're going to spend at least that long in a prison of my choosing."  
  
Something flashed in Priam's eyes; fear perhaps, or despair because he finally realized he'd lost all control. Hector didn't have a chance to analyze it, because Priam quickly lifted himself off the ground and impaled himself on his son's sword. Their eyes locked as Hector stared in surprise and horror. It was as if Priam was willing him to witness his last moments, for them to be etched on his memory and haunt him forever...  
  
_"Paris!"_ Hector started at Achilles' scream. "Alexandros," he breathed, and took off toward the ships, sparing no more thoughts for his dying father. He sped past the fighting, praying to Apollo or any other god listening that nothing had happened to his son.  
  
He gasped with a mixture of shock, horror, and wonder at the sight that greeted him on the beach near the ships. Lord Isidore was on the ground, bleeding too much to still be alive. Achilles stood next to Paris, holding on to one of the boy's arms and murmuring soft words. Paris heeded neither words nor man; he was staring in shock at the dead body while clutching a bloody sword so tightly his knuckles were white.  
  
"Paris," he said gently as he approached. "Paris." Paris didn't move; he didn't seem to know he was there at all. "Paris Alexandros," Hector said, a little more firmness in his voice. Paris looked up and saw the loving expression on his father's face. "Let go of the sword, my son."  
  
Paris let the sword slip from his hand; Achilles caught it and flung it onto the sand. "I had to kill him," Paris said.  
  
Hector took him into his arms. "I know," he comforted. "I knew him and there was no choice but to fight." He frowned a little. "Where did you learn how to fight?"   
  
"Achilles taught me."  
  
Hector raised his eyebrows at Achilles. "What did you think we did all day?" he asked, and had to laugh, despite everything, at Hector's responding blush. "All day and all night? Even I don't have that kind of stamina."  
  
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_  
The former King Priam and Lord Isidore laid on side-by-side funeral pyres. Hector, newly crowned as king of Troy, watched as Odysseus placed the coins on their eyes. He was grateful to Ithaca's king for understanding why he couldn't do it himself and volunteering for the job.  
  
His eyes strayed to where his family stood. Paris was there, watching the funeral rites. A new sense of confidence had seemed to come over him, after facing down his nightmare and winning. Hector talked to him about being named his heir, but Paris refused. He told his father he didn't want to deal with all the questions of legitimacy, politics, and having to carry on the line. What he wanted was to be with Achilles, and that would take him away from Troy. Not forever; Achilles wasn't so attached to him home that he'd object to spending months at a time in Paris' homeland. _"Let Astyanax continue to be your heir,"_ Paris had told him, _"and I'll get to stay with the one I love without causing a major scandal."_

Achilles stood next to Paris, his arms wrapped protectively around him. Hector decided he liked the Grecian warrior, despite his odd humor and quick temper; his love for Paris was genuine. He laughed to himself as he remembered when Achilles informed the members of the court that his Myrmidons would be camping on the beach during his and Paris' long stays in Troy. The nobles had been horrified, but Achilles dismissed them in his usual unconcerned fashion, saying he couldn't see how having an army of the finest Grecian warriors between the city and the sea could possibly hurt Troy's security.

Next to them was Andromache, holding Astyanax. It had been Andromache who raised the troops on his behalf during his absence, after making sure the baby would be safe at Mount Ida. Achilles and Paris had been surprised, but Odysseus - who was also the husband of a formidable woman - only chuckled with understanding.  
  
Odysseus now stepped back and stood beside Hector. "You didn't have to do this," he told Troy's new king. "Everyone would have understood if you'd have let them rot."  
  
"If I did that, they would always be on my mind, haunting me," replied Hector. "It's better to hand them over to Hades and forget them. We can't let the past destroy us when we have the future to look forward to."  
  
"A future with an alliance between Ithaca and Troy," said Odysseus. "And Achilles fights for you now."  
  
This time Hector did snort. "Achilles fights for Achilles."  
  
Odysseus smiled. "He also fights for love of Paris," he responded as the two kings walked away from the fires and toward Hector's family. Behind them, the bodies on the pyres burned, sending Priam and Lord Isidore to the judgment and punishment of Hades.  
  
The End.  
  
_A/N: Thanks to everyone who read this story, and especially to those who reviewed it. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it! I may do a sequel eventually, and some plot bunnies for possible companion pieces have been attacking recently..._


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